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Right now, Kace is waiting for me and hundreds of people are waiting for him.
I finger comb my hair, and then I rush to the door, but I pause with a jolt of my mind that shoots me right back to that call. If it was truly a butt dial, why did my gut tell me it was Sofia? And it did. There’s a knock on the door, and I chide myself for holding up Kace when the show must go on.
I open the door and suck in a breath to find Kace standing right there, right in front of me, his hand pressed to the doorjamb, his snug T-shirt stretched across an impressive chest. His big, perfect body is the best kind of barrier a girl could wish for. He catches my hand and steps me into him, tingling sensations darting up my arm and across my chest.
“Ready?” he asks, a rough masculine push beneath the question.
“Why do I feel as if that question could mean a million things with you?”
Mischief floods his blue eyes. “Because your mind is presently someplace I, unfortunately, can’t visit with you until after this event.”
“Shouldn’t you be out there already?”
“I have about three minutes, which means you need to get back out front.” He slides his arm around me and just that easily, we are in motion down the empty hallway.
“Showtime, August!”
At the sound of Chris’s voice behind us, Kace twists around and walks backward. “Hell yeah, man. Let’s go do this big for a big cause.”
“Is there any other way?” Chris asks.
We arrive at the door leading to the auction room and Kace rotates, placing himself between me and Chris, his hand settling possessively at my waist. “There is no other way,” he says softly. “Not if you really want something.” And suddenly I don’t think he’s talking about the show anymore. He cups my face. “Don’t leave without me.” He doesn’t give me time to reply. He opens the door and the clink and clatter of glasses mixes with the hum of voices. Crystal’s voice sounds over the speakers as she speaks to the crowd, the urgency of me taking my seat quite clear.
“Good luck, Kace,” I whisper, and dare to kiss his cheek.
I see a fleeting moment of heat in his eyes and something else, something indiscernible I desperately wish that I could read before I rotate away from him and into the auction room. With fast steps, I quickly travel past the stage to the seating area that is now stacked with bodies, the lights low, muting faces. The other guests can see me but I can’t see them. Discomfort rattles around inside me, the defensive instincts drilled into me my entire life telling me to shy away from the spotlight. But that’s impossible, as there’s nowhere to go but into the spotlight right now, especially considering I’m the guest of one of the stars of the night right upfront.
Finally, I settle into my seat next to Sara, and just in time too as Crystal has stepped away from the podium and the lights go down. Sara grabs my hand. “I’m so excited and nervous.”
Marvin’s guitar screams roughly, wildly through the air and the music shoots adrenaline through me. I’m here, in the front row, when Kace August is about to play while Chris Merit paints. I’m here, living life, experiencing the past, the present—and on some level, I believe—my future, right here, right now. Gio was right. I never live life. Ever. But I am now, and there is no denying the thrill that comes with this night, and every moment I’ve spent with Kace, really with myself, out in the real world. I squeeze Sara’s hand. “Me, too.”
Little white lights twinkle in a musical formation when suddenly a violin starts playing the dramatic intense notes of a cover of “Bitter Sweet Symphony” by The Verve.
The lights come up and Kace is right in front of me, playing while Chris is to my right, painting. The crowd explodes into applause, while drums manned by a tall man with black hair streaked blue accents the drama. Sara and I slowly release each other and relax into the show as it’s so very clear that Kace and Chris are magical together. Chris’s canvas becomes a bridge, the Golden Gate Bridge, and I soon realize as Kace’s music morphs into an intense, edgy rendition of “Back in Black” by AC/DC, he’s right beside Chris. Chris’s hand moves with the mood of the music, more jutted action to his strokes, and buildings begin to appear on his canvas.
Song after song, the room absorbs every moment of the show, and when finally, Chris’s canvas is done, he stands, and Kace lowers his violin. Side by side, they take a bow, and when Kace’s gaze slides to me, his lips curve as he gives me a wink. My stomach flutters and I erupt in applause with the rest of the room.
